The Civil War: up close and personal

Thursday

Feb 14, 2013 at 3:15 AM

Editor’s note: Kevin Smithwood, of Wolfeboro, is a junior at Colby College in Maine and he spent the past three weeks of his January break at the NH Farm Museum going through 38 letters in the museum’s archives that were written from Civil War soldier John Varney of Milton to his brother-in-law Charles Jones of the Jones Farm (now the NH Farm Museum). Varney served in the war from 1861 to 1865.

By Kevin Smithwood

MILTON — John H. Varney was a man that history tends to pass over in its quest for war heroes, leaders, and compelling stories. He was never given any medals, was not a high-ranking officer, and his name was so common he was not even the only John Varney from Milton in the Union army. He served as a commissary officer and had the responsibility of ensuring the soldiers were supplied with rations, not exactly a position for glory and honor. His story is that of the reluctant soldier. Like so many who fought for the North, he saw little motivation to fight for causes he did not understand, but carried out his duty nonetheless. It is unlikely his story would ever be told if Charles Jones, the owner of the Jones Farm that is now the NH Farm Museum, had not saved 38 letters Varney wrote to him during the war. The letters give insight into the life of a man that good fortune had a way of avoiding.

In the 1860 Census, Varney was listed as the head of a large household containing 15 people. He lived with his wife, Nancy, and ran a shoemaking shop with his brother Charles. In addition, they employed 10 workers and housed them all along with the wives of those who were married. The success John H. Varney enjoyed was abruptly interrupted with the outbreak of the war in 1861. Patriotism and visions of a short, glorious war swept through the north and Varney left his home and family to join the Union and fight the “Rebs.” Before he left, he made a promise to his wife that he would not expose himself to battle if she maintained her health, a promise it appears both of them kept throughout the war.

John Varney was mustered into the army in November of 1861 at the age of 28. Upon enlistment, he received the rank of sergeant, a nod to his relative prominence before the war. He also received a $10 bounty upon enlistment, a far cry from the sums men would receive in later, more desperate years. The injustice in the most patriotic men receiving the smallest amounts irked him throughout the war. He volunteered with many men from his shop and from Milton, and received two promotions, becoming a first lieutenant in 1863. In that year, Varney and his friend Eli Wentworth were the only officers out of 119 Union men from Milton. Despite his relative success, Varney was never satisfied with the army and those who commanded it. He criticized George McClellan and called him “a fool, a naïve, a coward.”

He also believed the length of the war and the massive casualties in it were due to Union leadership’s inability to exploit the numeric superiority of the North and recruit able men. He was highly critical of “bounty men,” who enlisted only after the federal government enacted laws to pay for enlistments. Varney despised these men and characterized them as poor soldiers. In his letters to Charles Jones, he never criticized slavery or expressed a desire to end the institution. This, however, did not mean he was racist. Varney rarely depicted African-Americans in his letters, but when he did it was always in a positive light. He characterized African-Americans as “brighter than the whites” and “good soldiers.” Varney rarely discussed preserving the Union and gave no indication that he was motivated by a desire to keep the country intact. As early as 1862, Varney stated, “I am for the recognition of the Southern Confederacy.”

A promotion and the turning momentum of the war lifted his spirits in the spring and summer of 1863, but by October he wrote that the men were starving and the regiment was in a location that made it very difficult to get supplies. By 1864, John Varney was a broken man. The winter had been hard on the men, and Ulysses S. Grant’s costly Overland Campaign destroyed any patriotism he had left. His principle concern became leaving the army and returning home to Milton once his three years were up. His quiet New Hampshire town was always on his mind. He frequently asked Charles Jones about town elections and finances. He was so concerned with the town’s well-being that he wrote to Jones in 1862: “If the town wants to borrow some money, please let them have what I have got in the banks for I don’t think them very prosperous now.” By the fall of 1864, it had been three years since he had been home.

Varney voted for Abraham Lincoln in the 1864 election “with little heart” and with the expectation that he would be discharged from the army a few weeks later. Never one to hold his tongue, he routinely criticized Lincoln in the months before the election. There has been a renewed focus on Lincoln recently and his amazing abilities as a leader and strategist, but to Varney he was nothing more than an idealistic and incompetent politician. Varney lashed out at the president for clinging on to hopes of winning the war without recruiting enough men to do so.

John Varney was conscripted back into the army in late November, three days before he was entitled to go home. Had he not been an officer he would have been free to leave, but due to his position as a brigade commissary he was kept in the army. This left him feeling betrayed by the country that he served for three long years, only to be told it was not enough. After his conscription, he wrote, “I am… blue-mad-discouraged-disheartened-unlucky-miserable.” Three years of bloody war drained him of his honor and pride. In one of his final letters to Charles Jones, he wrote, “Damn this country,” and spoke of a desire to have Maine and New Hampshire secede from the Union and join Canada. After seeing his comrades die on the fields of Second Bull Run, Antietam, Fredericksburg, and Spotsylvania, he left the army wondering what he and so many others had sacrificed so much for. He was full of bitterness and resentment that he probably held the rest of his life.

After the war, John Varney’s life was never the same. His once-thriving shoe shop was now lifeless and he was forced to start a new life. On his way home he probably passed by Eli Wentworth’s house. The family inside held a letter Varney wrote them in 1863 to tell them Eli was never coming home. In the ultimate act of adding insult to injury, Varney discovered a bill the government claimed Wentworth owed them for supplies. He wondered how a man who died serving his country could possibly owe the government anything.

He left Milton with his wife, Nancy sometime thereafter, and went to Haverhill, Mass. One can only wonder if it was out of necessity or if he was trying to escape from his past. He worked in Haverhill in a shoe factory, a humiliating existence for a man who once was a prominent citizen and business owner. In 1860, he had been the head of a household of 15, with plenty of family members living nearby. By 1870, he was a factory worker living with only his wife. John and Nancy Varney never had any children. Varney quietly lived out his life in Haverhill until his death in 1893. He may have never been shot in the war, but John H. Varney was certainly a casualty of it.